


Hissing and Healing

by EvaLilith



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvaLilith/pseuds/EvaLilith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastur pays Crowley a visit. Aziraphale finds the aftermath.</p>
<p>I don't own Good Omens or any of the characters therein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hissing and Healing

Aziraphale didn’t usually come to Crowley’s flat. Crowley was a very private person, and he respected that. He also knew that there were probably things there he didn’t want to see. The Ritz and sushi restaurants and the shop were more than good enough for both of them.

But he hadn’t heard from him in three days, even when he broke down and used the cell phone the demon had bought him, and Crowley always told him when he was going out of town now.

He rubbed the sleeve of his sweater worriedly as he approached the door and rang the buzzer. “Crowley?”

There was no response.

After trying the buzzer a few more times, he put a hand on the doorknob and had a silent conversation with the lock. The door sprang open, and Aziraphale let out a gasp of dismay.

The modern, sleek look of the apartment was spoiled by broken furniture and the liberal application of feathers and blood across what seemed to be every surface. Crowley lay sprawled on the sofa where he’d collapsed, trying to muster the energy to put himself back together. He was ashen, his clothes were patterned with dry and still-wet blood, and one wing was splayed crookedly across the coffee table.

Aziraphale bent over him. “…Crowley?” he croaked.

The demon opened one eye. “…Hhhhhi, Angel,” he managed. “Didn’t exssssssspeect company, ssssssorry.”

Aziraphale tried to hide his relief at the fact that Crowley had at least responded. “What _happened_ , dear boy?”

“Hassssssssstur.” Crowley somehow managed to snarl while hissing.

“Hastur?”

“…Duke of Hhhell. Pissssed him off during the Apocolypssssssse.” Crowley groaned. “Go- Hhe- Fuck. I hhhurt everywhere.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “I would expect so. You’re hardly suited for taking on a Duke. Though I assume you won.” He began to piece together the worst of Crowley’s injuries, taking the demon’s complaint as permission to do so.

Crowley gave a moan of relief. “…Tricked hhhim. Don’t think he’ll be back. Not sssoon-!” He winced as Aziraphale pulled him into a sitting position. “Angel, that hurtsss!”

“Do stop hissing, dear, you ought to be together enough for that, now. I can’t get your back properly if you’re lying down.”

Crowley suffered Aziraphale’s ministrations in silence for a moment, then asked, “Why are you here, anyway? You never come here.”

The angel looked down. “…You weren’t answering your phone.”

Crowley half-turned to look at him, trying not to hiss as he did so. “…You were worried about me?”

Aziraphale colored. “You needn’t seem so surprised. How many people did I possess during the Apocalypse to get back and help?”

Crowley grinned. “I suppose so.” He faced forward again to let Aziraphale give proper attention to his wing. “…My lot don’t go in for gratitude… but thanks, Angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt " Aziraphale and the lyrics: ‘i never want to hear the truth; i want to hear your voice. it’s sounding fine; my voice is sounding fine.’-" from thewriter8 on Tumblr.


End file.
